


Finale

by Walsingham



Category: Australian Comedians RPF, The Umbilical Brothers
Genre: Bit of Language, Gen, Violence, What Did You Expect, also, and stuff, but we are aussies, king hit, really sorry, so sorry for whatever this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:44:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walsingham/pseuds/Walsingham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the back alley of an Aussie pub, Dave and Shane try to help a young girl trapped in a corner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finale

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing.
> 
> Also sorry.  
> Really.

   The noise of their shoes hitting the pavement echoed down the dark alley beside them as they walked past on their way to the local pub. The darkness of the night pushed at their tired eyes but, for tradition's sake, they were determined for a post-show drink. They were talking as they walked, but a scuffle and a squeal came from within the shadows of the alleyway that was now behind them, causing the Umbilical Brothers to pause their conversation.

   Dave turned around first and crept back the way they’d come to investigate, pulling out his iPhone to use as a torch as he went. Shane followed warily, his own reliable but torchless flip phone heavy in his back pocket.

   They stood at the alleys entrance, allowing their eyes to adjust to the poor light of Dave’s phone. Soon, shapes took form in the darkness, and they were able to make out wooden crates, stuffed full with empty bottles that once contained alcohol, overflowing garbage skips and black bin bags whose stomachs and burst open, spewing the contents down the filthy alley. Three metres away from the entrance stood a graffitied brick wall, allowing no way through. The Umbilical Brothers stepped forward cautiously, squinting eyes picking out two moving shapes, pressed against the wall. Lifting his phone higher, Dave shone the light on a terrified young girl trapped in the far corner by a hungry looking man twice her size.

   The girl’s wide, glistening eyes found them, but she was too scared to cry for help. The man had a firm grip of her hair, allowing no escape.

   “Oi!” Dave shouted, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The man paused in his attack and turned his head towards the interruptions, neck cracking. His arms shifted, drawing attention to the dark lines of tattoos that disappeared up the sleeves of his tight shirt.

   “Mind your own fucking business,” he growled, sneering before turning back to his captive.

   “Hey, let the girl go, dickhead, and we won’t cause you any more trouble,” Shane said, trying to sound at least slightly reasonable, but the man payed them little attention.

   David glanced at Shane, eyebrows raised, before darting forward and closing the gap between himself and the tattooed man. He felt the material of the man’s shirt stretch and strain in his hand as he grabbed the back of the collar and pulled, wrenching him away from the girl. Shane takes this moment to grab her and pull her back into the light of the streetlamps, away from the beginnings of a fight. Carefully, he sits her down on the kerb of the footpath. The shouting and crashing behind him had caught the attention of a few bystanders, so Shane left the shaking girl in their care before turning back to help his friend.

   As far as he could tell, the fight was fairly evenly matched, despite Dave’s superior strength and speed. The other man’s attack was angry, clumsy and unpredictable, forcing Dave to defend himself and keep the onslaught away from Shane and the girl. Seeing a fleeting opportunity, Shane joined the brawl, but the man’s messy assault landed an elbow meant for Dace in Shane’s stomach, winding him as he toppled back onto a pile of crates and bottles, sending them crashing. His temple struck the wall beside him, and his vision blurred.

   Dave tried to use this moment of distraction to his advantage, but misjudged the bigger man’s speed, and a meaty fist cracked into Dave’s chin, crunching his teeth together. The follow through sent his head snapping back, and his feet left the ground briefly before the base of his skull whacked heavily into the kerb beside the girl. Crying out in shock, she jumped up and was quickly swallowed by the growing crowd.

   Gingerly, Shane limped over to David in a vaguely concussed haze. Unable to see properly, he placed a hand in a spreading pool of blood. Yelping, his heart shattered as he wiped it off onto his own brown shirt. Leaning over his friend’s still form, his hands fluttered weakly, searching for the beat of a pulse or the faintest of breaths running through Dave’s blue-tinged lips. His search became frantic but he allowed the people around him to help him up, although he pushed them away as soon as he had found his balance. Slowly and painfully, he turned towards the tattooed man, to the person who did this. He hadn’t yet been able to get through the throng of people, and was yelling at a woman who was bravely standing her ground, though her eyes were wide and her hands were shaking by her sides. Shane reached out and grabbed a decorated arm, feeling the raise ink under his finger as he turned him around forcefully.

   Shane’s fist was already crunching into the man’s nose by the time their eyes had finally met. The skin of his knuckles tore open as the cartilage structure collapsed like a tent under a boulder. The piercing wail of sirens made themselves heard and the man stumbled back, covering his decimated nose with his hand, blood dribbling through his fingers and down his chin. Shane lunged forward for another go, but the press of a gun holster into his hip made him falter, and he was quickly pulled away by police. Kicking out, Shane tried to break free, screaming at the man.

   _“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you for what you’ve done, you murderer! You deserve to die, bastard, not Dave. Not my best friend, you fucking dickhead!”_ his voice cracked with the force of the words, and it took several policemen to turn him around and force him onto his stomach. Loose gravel cut into his cheek as his eyes found Dave’s body. His eyes were open and glassy, stark against his now-pale skin. Blood had begun drying around him and in the curls of his dark brown hair. Shane stopped fighting against the police and only tried to drag himself closer to his friend, yelling for him, trying to wake him up. Slowly, the police released him.

   All the fight had gone out of him, and he only had the energy to crawl, before falling to his friend’s side. He ignored the shouting behind him as the police arrested the tattooed man. Shane was in his own burning world, reaching out for Dave’s already cold hand. He clasped it between his own in an attempt to warm it back up, as if it would restart his best friend’s heart.

_It’s okay, Dave. He’s gone. You can wake up now._

_Please wake up._

**Author's Note:**

> Wow yeah, that was terrible.  
> Sorry in particular to the Umbilical Brothers themselves, who will probably never read this, but still.  
> The next one won't be anything like this, promise.  
> I'll turn Shane into a koala or something I don't know.


End file.
